Like I’ve been holding back for months and finally—finally—I don’t have to anymore.
My mouth crashes against hers. Hungry. Desperate. But I brace my hand on the wall above her head because if I don’t anchor myself somewhere I’ll crush her.
She pulls me closer instead. Fingers tangling in my hair. Body pressed against mine.
I groan into her mouth and the sound is wrecked.
Heat floods through me. Not just desire. My magic flaring in response to her.
The bond hums.
Her shadows wrap around me like they’re steadying me. My fire pulses in answer—controlled, but barely.
She’s choosing me.
We stumble backward. Still kissing. Breathless.
I reach past her, shove her door open, and we fall through together.
My hands are everywhere—her waist, her back, tangling in her hair—but I’m careful. So fucking careful.
She’s still healing. Her ribs are still bruised. I can’t—
She tugs at my shirt.
I pull back just long enough to yank it over my head. Her eyes go wide for half a second—taking in my chest, the fire rune glowing faintly over my heart, pulsing with my heartbeat—before I’m kissing her again.
Her shirt follows. My hands slide up her ribs—gentle, checking—and she gasps when my thumb brushes the edge of the bruise.
I freeze. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She grabs my face. Pulls me back. “Don’t stop.”
Gods help me.
We fall onto the bed together.
I hover over her, chest heaving, trying to hold onto the last threads of my control.
The rune pulses brighter. My jaw locks again—fighting the urge to just take what I want.
Then I stop.
Cup her jaw.
“Tell me you want this,” I say quietly. Seriously. “Tell me it’s you choosing me. Not the bond. Not the day. You.”
I need to hear it. Need to know this is real.
She reaches up. Touches my face.
“I want you, Torric.”
My breath shudders out of me.
“Then gods help me… I’m yours.”
I move slowly at first.
